This is true. My grandfather used to keep bees. He’s scoop them all day and never get stung. He loved those bees. Often he’d make the corniest jokes too. Sometimes he’d just make a little buzzing sound and give you a little peck on the cheek. But then he’d just go back outside and scoop some bees. It was so ingrained into our daily routine. I’d wake up to get some cereal, and I’d find the box of raisin bran all scribbled out and replaced with “TWO SCOOPS OF BEES.” Every raisin would be painstakingly drawn over and turned into a bee. Things kept getting weirder, like he’d insist the honey should only be eaten by the kids. After a while he would just tape a thumb tack to his butt. Yet he was the one who would scream in sheer terror if you got close to it. “Don’t touch my stinger!” Of course, eventually, someone did. My cousin bumped into it by accident. He yelped in surprise and my grandfather turned around and just said “now you’ve done it! Now you’ve done it!” He marched off into the shed, and loaded his gun. My mom went in after him and said “you can’t be serious!” And he just said “you better BEE-lieve it!” and shot himself in the chest.

But yeah bees are totally harmless!